Revolution
by MoonOfPluto
Summary: Last year, Katniss and Gale created hope for a revolution. They have spent the past months nurturing that initial spark into a fire which could burn down the Capitol. Now in open war, the future holds different and more dangerous challenges for the two victors as they fight to end oppression. Sequel to I Volunteer and Kindling the Spark.
1. District Thirteen

1: District Thirteen

Gale POV

It's been less than a week since I arrived at Thirteen, but it feels like much longer. It feels like forever since I last saw Katniss. I might never see her again. I know that it being war, I should reconcile myself to that idea, but no matter how I try, I cannot. Katniss is a part of me after everything that's happened.

I stick my hand into the hole next to the door for it to tattoo the schedule of the day in the violet ink they love here. Everything in Thirteen is scheduled, including times to go the toilet and go to sleep. I hate that aspect of living here. There's no freedom, and isn't freedom what we were fighting for in the first place?

I don't want to live in a Panem ruled by District Thirteen. Alright, they have their good points: they have good education and training, jobs for everybody and excellent safety procedures. Everybody gets enough food to live on. But they also have a lot of bad. Aside from the excessive scheduling, they are also incredibly tight with resources.

In District Twelve, when I hunted I could eat pretty well. Here, even when they have a lot of food stored, people are only given a calculated amount- enough energy to get you through the day's activities and no more. I once saw somebody from Twelve throw away a piece of paper and get glared at by every Thirteen person in the area.

I glance down at the schedule. Six thirty to seven am, get dressed, washed and excrete. I've done the last two already, now all that is needed is to change from the grey ill-fitting pyjamas into some grey ill-fitting clothes. I pull them on, grimacing. We weren't rich in Twelve, but at least I had clothes bought with me in mind, not these one-size-fits-all from Thirteen.

The trousers are too short, the shirt slightly too long. I shrug and open the door into the corridor of Bunker 28. I don't know how many bunkers they have here, exploring wasn't on the list tattooed on my arm on any day. No, we arrived and gave up our weapons, then I was taken to this room and explained how basic life works here.

Seven to seven thirty, breakfast. I turn left and go down a flight of stairs to the breakfast room. They have the times staggered, for the time being at least, I'm on the day shifts. According to the times on my wrist at least. I wouldn't know down here, it's not like I can see any natural light.

Just a small bowl of porridge this morning. Looks like I don't have a very strenuous morning today. I look down at my wrist. Meetings with governors of Thirteen. Free time. Going to research and development to meet with their people, apparently that's where I've been chosen to work until they get me to stir up rebellion in any Districts that aren't yet rebelling.

It's the afternoon which has weapons training. A two hours block for hand-to-hand combat, then one hour of target practise. I'll probably get a heavy lunch then. I shovel the porridge into my mouth quickly, barely glancing at the others sharing the room with me. They look at often though, I know it. They expected something more of a symbol I suppose.

I'm just another soldier to them now, another tool to be used when they deem necessary. They call everybody above fourteen here soldier, I suppose they've all had more training than I have. But I've had something more valuable- actual experience of what it's like to have to fight. What it's like to lose loved ones.

There is a buzz throughout the room, signalling the end of breakfast. We leave the bowls, there are people here whose job it is to clean the kitchens and eating rooms. I suppose that I'm lucky that they've chosen that I will work in Research and Development for the time being, because that sounds a lot better than dish washing.

Briskly, I walk over to one of the meeting rooms, where I'm meant to see the governors of Thirteen. Maybe they want me to start being a rebellion symbol, starting tomorrow of course. Being the mockingjay isn't on the list stamped in violet ink on my arm, so it can't happen. District Thirteen takes these lists seriously apparently.

"Gale Hawthorne," a woman with grey hair tied back tightly in a bun greets. "It's an honour to meet you. My name is Alma Coin, I'm president of District Thirteen."

"Nice to meet you."

"These are my advisors," she says and gestures to the men and women around her. She makes no move to introduce them, so I shrug and sit down.

"We have tried to you some time to settle into life here but we are at war at the moment and we need you to help convince people to join the revolution. Nothing dangerous of course, all of our videos will be shot here in District Thirteen. The rebels you will be helping will be actors, we'll have sets, the whole works-"

"-That's a bit deceptive, don't you think?" I cut her off mid sentence. "Tricking people into joining the rebellion. If they find out later, they'll be angry. And the Capitol will be able to see that and point out that we are lying to the Districts."

"Our technology is good enough that we can stage it without them knowing. And don't you think that they will be doing the same thing to the people. They aren't willing to put themselves in danger either. Now we were thinking that you could start making promos tomorrow."

"I have a few conditions before I start."

"Name them. If it's possible, we'll grant them."

"One: You get Katniss back for me."

"If we could, we would. You have so much more power on audiences whilst you are together."

"Send spies, I'm sure you have people in the Capitol. I need her out of there. She's going to get tortured. You have to at least try, instead of just hiding underground like you are now. You say that you need her, I need her at least ten thousand times as much. If you don't try to get her back, I won't help you."

"I'll try and have my people in the Capitol find out where she is being kept," the president replies. "I have no guarantee that we will be able to retrieve her though. I promise that we are and will continue to dedicate time and resources to it though. Is that good enough for you to help us? The war will end faster if you do."

"Alright, but I will need proof. Two: I get to go outside everyday and hunt. I'm tired of staying underground all day." I know that I must sound whiny to her, but she's stayed underground her entire life. She doesn't know how good fresh air smells or of simple pleasures like sitting in a tree or eating rabbit stew.

"With guards, that could be allowed I suppose. Two hours per day and always above District Thirteen. Any food that you catch would go to the kitchens. Is that good enough?"

"I want to be able to eat some of my catch and I don't want guards. Post them around the area if I must have guards, but I don't want them following me around. Is that accepted?"

"One bird or rabbit," she allows. "Guards posted around the area, but you will wear a tracking bracelet and camera so that they can find you."

"Done. Condition Three: I want to visit District Twelve and see what is left of it. It was my home and I want to see it for one last time."

"We can shoot a promo there. That's easy enough to grant."

"Condition Four: If Katniss commits any crimes, I want her to have full immunity. She can't be punished for things that the Capitol made her do."

"Is that it?" she asks. "You will start tomorrow in District Twelve with the first promo?" I nod. "Fulvia, draw up a contract." She takes my arm and looks at the timetable. "We will find you in R and D in three hours and you will sign it. You may go now."

I nod curtly and leave. Maybe I should visit Rory, Posy and my mother. The last few days have been busy and I haven't seen them since they were first brought in. I know that they also stay in Bunker 28 in the rooms opposite mine. Rory will want to see me, and Posy. She was crying when I last left for the Capitol.

I find Rory, Prim and Hazelle sharing a room. Apparently you have to be pretty important to merit having a room of your own. And I was important enough to get the president of this place to bend and outright break some of her rules to make me the symbol of the revolution.

"Gale!" Posy shouts and jumps up. She hugs me tight around the middle. Posy doesn't have a timetable tattooed on her arm yet. She's only eight and people here start training at ten. Posy gets the joys of being free to run around in a tightly run military bunker. They don't have many children around here.

According to one of the soldiers, I can't remember which one, there was a nuclear accident a few years back which left most of the population sterile, which is why there were no children and they were so eager to find quarters, jobs and food for the people of District Twelve.

"Hello Posy," I say, swinging her around. She seems slightly lighter than she was in District Twelve. I suppose an eight year old with no schedule doesn't require much energy. Maybe I can bring her back some game. I should have added having more food to my list of demands.

"What have you been doing these past few days?" Rory asks. "They've been teaching me how to fight with a gun and more about the history of the rebellion and Districts. I've had to get up early these past few days and the food here isn't good, but it's really interesting and the combat training looks really useful. In under a year, they'll be calling me a soldier."

"Much the same as you," I reply. "Battle training and some history. This morning I had a meeting with the president though and I'm going to start making videos for the rebellion tomorrow in District Twelve. And I'm going to work researching new weapons for them- I start in half an hour."

"You're going back to District Twelve?" my mum asks. "Are you sure that's safe? Some of the people that we were going to escape with were killed by peacekeepers last time we were there."

"I'll be safe- they won't risk my life. I'll probably have guards and hovercrafts and people who'll sweep the place for any peacekeepers before I enter. All of the other videos will be filmed here in Thirteen if that makes you feel better. They'll make sets and have actors and scripted speeches."

"Oh. Yes, that's much better. I've heard that the Districts are dangerous at the moment, there are rebels fighting Capitol loyalists and Snow is bombing places and it's just chaos. You're much safer in here, doing what they say."

"I suppose. I don't like it much in here though. At least I have hunting rights, two hours each day now. Being underground is just.. It feels like I'm trapped. I hate it. And the way that everything is so scheduled here." I wave my arm. "Free time, half an hour. Less than ten minutes now and my next free time isn't until four in the afternoon."

"Can I come hunting with you?" Rory asks eagerly. "I hate being stuck here too and I can hunt well now. I hunted everyday when you were in the Games and being a mentor."

"I didn't negotiate that with them, but they are coming to me with the contract later. I'll see what I can do." I glance at my watch. "I have to go now, R and D pretty far from here."

"Goodbye," Posy says and hugs me again.

"Bye Posy."

I look at the map to find my way to Research. District Thirteen is set up like a grid, so in theory it should be quite easy to find my way around. It's only easy when I can find a map though, otherwise the corridor numbers mean nothing to me. The map only covers a small part of Thirteen, but I think that I'm staying in one of the important parts.

I scan my wrist through the door so that it can detect that I'm supposed to be here. That's another of the things that makes breaking schedule in District Thirteen so difficult: you can't get into many rooms unless your schedule says that's where you're meant to be at that precise time.

A light flashes green and the words access granted come up on a small screen. The door slides open and I walk through. It snaps shut behind me and I enter a room that looks similar to a meeting room. I would have expected it to look different, more high-tech. A few people sit around the table.

"Gale Hawthorne. Wonderful to meet you again," one of the men says. I examine his face. When have I ever seen somebody from Thirteen before? He isn't one of the people who came from Twelve. "You don't recognise me. I suppose I look different without the beard. You saved my life in the Capitol, don't you remember?"

Then it hits me. He doesn't have the odd-looking beard anymore and his face seems to have gone paler from lack of sunlight, but I do recognise him. "Seneca Crane. Harriet Ranger told me that you had joined the rebellion. I didn't think that I would see you here, I thought you would be in meetings about the Capitol."

"My former job made me a perfect candidate to work here. Aside from creating traps and muttations, almost every gamemaker has spent some time in the lab trying to make the creations work. Now we've been working on finding way to trap units from the Capitol and kill as many as possible with one bomb. Now if you have a look at this design.."

xXx-X-xXx

Thanks for reading the first chapter of Revolution, I hope you enjoyed it. If you like the chapter or have any criticism, please leave a review. The next chapter will be Katniss's POV in the Capitol.

-MoonOfPluto


	2. First Meeting

2: First Meeting

Katniss POV

My arm hurts. I try to remember what happened. Where am I now? I was in the Games before, wasn't I? Did I win? What happened to my arm? I touch the bandage lightly and pain shoots through it. I wince and bring my hand away. Someone should come by soon. A doctor maybe. He can explain what happened.

What do I remember happened last? We killed the careers and Haymitch, Finnick and I were at the cornucopia. And then Beetee came and snatched my bow and arrow. Who injured my arm? Johanna wasn't there and Beetee was busy with the bow, it must have been Finnick or Haymitch.

But why would they do that? They were on my side- did they betray me? No, Haymitch volunteered for me, he wouldn't betray me. But Finnick might. He punched me that time, didn't he? Does that mean that I'm in the Capitol somewhere? I try to work out where, but the walls are blank and I can't see a door.

I touch my face. The bruise that Finnick gave me is still there. What happened to Haymitch and Beetee I wonder. They must be dead for me to be out of the Games. Did they kill Finnick and then suicide to get me out? What about Johanna? Somebody will come by soon. I can ask then.

Will somebody come by soon though? This doesn't look like a hospital. There aren't any other beds here, nor doctors or equipment. What if I haven't won, what if I've been imprisoned by Snow? What if he decides that executing me is the right thing after all? But then he would have interrupted the Games and.. I don't know. It's too confusing.

I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye and freeze up instinctively. That's the effect of going through two Hunger Games though. That sudden awareness of my peripheral vision has saved my life more times than I can count. Wait.. Is that.. Is the wall moving away? What's happening? Oh, that was a door? I should have noticed that. I glance at the figure. He seems familiar, but I can't quite remember from where.

"Hello Miss Everdeen," he says, sitting at the edge of my bed. His breath hits me in the face from over a metre away. And then I see it. How could I have been so stupid? The overpowering smell of roses, the white rose in his suit, the faint but all too recognisable scent of blood.

"President Snow. Where am I? What happened? Tell me."

"Gladly, Miss Everdeen. May I call you Katniss?" I shrug and nod. I doubt that he'll refrain from calling me by my first name just because I asked him to. "You were in the Third Quarter Quell and it was near to the end. The only tributes remaining apart from yourself were Beetee Andrews from District Three, Finnick Odair from Four, Johanna Mason from Seven and Haymitch Abernathy, your District partner."

"Yes, yes, I know that. Tell me why I'm here and how I got this wound!" I demand. "Where are the others? Are they dead?"

He picks up my wounded arm and presses down lightly. A moan of pain escapes my lips before I can keep it back. No. I can't show weakness in front of him. I have to stay strong. Stay strong for Gale and Prim, I order myself. If they're still alive. Yet another thing to ask of Snow.

"A bad wound. Your allies betrayed you. That was inflicted by Finnick Odair, with a trident. You would have bled to death had we not found you in time. Neither Haymitch nor Beetee attempted to stop him. I'm sorry that you had to find out about their treachery that way. You are only a girl, not yet an adult. You aren't in the same class as them."

"Why did you let me live? It was the Hunger Games, they're meant to kill me. That's what you wanted when you put me in another time. Don't tell me that you care that I'm technically still a child, I know that you don't. You organised the Hunger Games, you order the deaths of children!" I scream at him.

Snow winces. "Please don't shout, Katniss. We can discuss this rationally. The plan was never for you to die. The plan was for the revolution to die and for war to be averted. Your allies took matters into their own hands. They broke the force field surrounding the arena shortly before they betrayed you."

"Why would they do that?" I say aloud, more to myself than to him. "And besides, I'm the one who matters to the rebellion. I was the symbol, I'm the one they were following. Not Beetee or Haymitch or Finnick or Johanna. Me. Wait. Did they escape the arena? Did they leave me behind?"

"I have people trying to find out exactly why they did it," Snow replies. The stench of blood is even more apparent when he's this close to me. "As for the rebellion, this has gone much further than you. You're a figurehead now, nothing more. The only thing that your death will achieve is making the rebels angrier."

"So you have them here?" I ask. "My allies. My former allies." If I trust him with this. He could be manipulating me. He's an evil dictator, he can manipulate. "And don't think that I will do anything that you ask. I'm willing to die for the rebellion. I won't turn to your side. You kill children, you.."

"Please Katniss, just hear me out. Don't try to commit suicide or I'll have guards posted here 24/7. I'm not going to try to force you into anything. It's more subtle than that. People will be able to tell. It will be like the interview cards all over again. I won't let you on screen to try to ruin Panem with your talk of rebellion. This has to be willing. Just listen."

"I won't listen to you," I insist. "You'll just try to manipulate me. Well you can find someone else. I won't do this. I'm not going to hep you ruin Panem!" I shout, throwing his words back at him.

"Well there's a sign of a mature leader," Snow mutters. I glare at him. "Somebody presents something different from your worldview, rather politely I might add- which is more than would happen to me if your people captured me- and you try to zone them out because you think that they might be manipulating you against your allies. Allies who betrayed you, I feel the need to say."

"Fine. Talk. But you won't convince me. No matter how pretty your words are, the evidence goes against them. Because what I can see of your reign is piles of dead children, men slaving in coal mines, women selling their bodies just to afford food. How can you argue against that?"

"Take a look at the one place where I actually reign Katniss. Here. The Capitol. A beautiful city, the most advanced in Panem in medicine, education, technology.. Anything which you can name. I cannot be everywhere at once. The Hunger Games did not start with me. You were taught the history of Panem, were you not? President Hyde I believe was responsible for that."

"You could have stopped the Games," I snap. "And you rule over Panem, we both know it. It's in your very title. President of Panem. Not President of the Capitol. I don't know why you favour the Capitol above every other District or why you like Districts One and Two so much, in Twelve our education wasn't good enough to get into that."

"Tell me the last time that I was actually in District Twelve, aside from a few months ago when I needed to talk with you. For the most part, the Capitol government let the Districts run themselves. You sell us coal and we pay you for it. We take nothing from people doing other jobs in taxes, we don't try to make your life harder. Most of the laws kept by the peacekeepers are for the good of the Districts."

"You still rule there. You could have helped us, instead of leaving people to starve. You said it yourself, the Capitol is rich and advanced. Why couldn't you have shared those advancements with us? What did you gain from leaving people to die?" I ask him. "I've seen what your doctors can do. My mother was a healer, so I saw the injuries people came in with. There were many people that she couldn't save, but with your technology we could."

"You make it sound as if I am the only Capitolite," he says dryly. "I'm not. I am President, yes, I have a lot of say. I could probably try to force people into sharing everything they have with the Districts. But why should I? That would bring everybody here down to a much lower level if they were forced to support everybody from the Districts as well."

"So?" I ask. "You don't think that maybe you could sacrifice making such expensive buildings or so many food courses that you have to make yourself throw up to taste everything? What about the arenas for the Hunger Games? How much money do you blow on that every year? Why didn't you stop the Games?"

"For peace," Snow says. I glare. Very peaceful, forcing children to fight to the death on live television. Not what caused the revolution to start at all. "If I tried to forbid the Hunger Games, the people would rise up against me and overthrow me. If it helps you to accept that I am not evil, I was the one who made younger children have less of a chance of being picked than older. I invented tesserae, to help people who needed food."

"So you're trying to say that you are not evil, but the people who you support are evil. And you want me to support these people as well. No. I won't do that. No matter how much you torture me."

"I thought that we had ascertained that I would not be torturing you," Snow says calmly. "And I am not trying to say that the Capitolites are evil. I'm trying to say that we are human. Many people here lost family in the first rebellion. For our older citizens, that was parents and siblings. Of course they want justice. You want revenge against us for your sister being reaped."

"Justice is killing the people who stared the rebellion," I counter. "Not innocent children seventy five years later. I understand the desire for justice against those who killed your family, but it doesn't mean that you have to take a tribute of children every year for as long as can be foreseen. Children who weren't even born when the rebellion started."

"And I don't think that I should have the right to force people to help others. The people in the Capitol prospered. Districts One, Two and Four did as well, without our help. District Three has an excellent education system, District Five.. Well you know about that from Aravis. There is even mobility through getting a job as a peacekeeper."

"You can't force people to help others, but you can force people to fight to the death for your amusement," I mutter.

"Look at the Hunger Games logically, Katniss. You think that they are evil and twisted, that they never should have existed. In reality, we take each year around eighteen people unwillingly. More people have died in this rebellion already than would in one hundred years of the Hunger Games."

"So you're trying to tell me that every Capitolite is a good person and that you don't deserve to die. That the rebels deserve death more than you do."

"I am saying that we are all human. The rebels have been killing people, but somehow that's justified. We have killed much fewer people than they have. I'm saying that some of us created charity ventures to help people from the Districts- the orphanages in Twelve were funded by Capitolites for instance. I'm saying that the Hunger Games would have been phased out soon as the generations who were affected by them are dying. The Fourth Quell twist was an only volunteers Games. After that, I would have decided that it was better that way and it would just be an opportunity."

"I don't believe you. And it would still be sick to give children the opportunity to kill each other for money and fame."

Snow looks at his watch. "I have a meeting now, Katniss. I will send a doctor by to examine your arm later. Perhaps give you some painkillers. Think over what we've talked about."

He exits the room and I turn away. I won't let him convince me.

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Thanks for reading and thank you to everybody who followed and favourited last chapter. Did you like manipulative Snow and Katniss this chapter? Which POV do you like better at the moment, Gale in Thirteen or Katniss in the Capitol? Both POVs will be getting a little more action soon. Until next time..

-MoonOfPluto


	3. Back Home

3: Back Home

Gale POV

The hovercraft blades whir loudly, bringing back a well of bad memories. On my way to the first Games, that avox that Katniss and I might have been able to rescue injecting the trackers into our arms. Coming back from the Capitol after the Quarter Quell and one of the soldiers telling me that Katniss is still with the Capitol.

Where is Katniss now, I wonder. Have they killed her? No, I attempt to persuade myself, if they wanted to kill her, they would have done it long ago. She's probably imprisoned somewhere. District Thirteen said that rescuing her was one of their top priorities. They have spies in the Capitol, they would know if she was dead. I hope.

Maybe Snow will try to get her on his side. He was trying to make deals with her before to stop the rebellion. He could be trying that again. The thought brings a grim smile to my face. Snow won't find it easy to convert Katniss. Katniss is strong; Katniss knows what he's like. Katniss will never betray the people of Panem, not because of his threats nor because of any promises he might make her.

The hovercraft touches down roughly in what used to be the main square. This is where the Reapings happened; where everybody was herded in and two of us were chosen for slaughter. This is where the announcements would be made and the video's from the Capitol would be broadcasted.

It's barely recognisable now. The floor which used to be paved down with concrete has risen with ash and bone; all that is left of the transmission towers are hulks of twisted and scorched metal; the podium where Katniss and I once stood in front of enraptured audiences has been reduced to pieces of splintered wood and charcoal.

The sun shines bright overhead, there isn't a cloud in the sky. It shouldn't be this bright over the ruins, I feel, it should be cloudy and overcast. But the weather doesn't care that thousands died here. Over a million, probably. Rory and Prim managed to save a few thousand and find the District Thirteen search teams, but many more were killed by the initial explosions and the majority that survived those were killed by peacekeepers or starved to death.

The earth is slightly sticky underfoot and I am confused to what it could be for a moment. And then the reality hits deeply. I'm not just walking on this ash of buildings here, these cinders are being held together by the blood of people I once knew. People that I would watch as I walked to school or to the Hob, people I might have traded with. People who looked to me to rescue them.

Had I thought that my actions would lead to an entire District being reduced to rubble and that the remains of its people would be left to rot amid the remains of its buildings, perhaps I would have just eaten the berries. Even the life that the mine workers had here was better than no life at all.

Katniss once told me about her father singing to her and Prim. She also told me that he went into the forest and wrote a book about the properties of plants. It doesn't sound like such a bad life. Maybe President Snow was right.. Maybe we should have tried much, much harder to convince people not to rebel.

No.. What am I thinking? This isn't my fault or Katniss's. We weren't the ones who dropped bombs on an entire District just because its people we're protesting for a better life and for the end of a child murder festival. I can't believe that I almost defended Snow there. He's the one who did this. He's the one we need to blame, he's the one we need to fight.

One of the soldiers interrupts my thought train. "Soldier Hawthorne. You are required to wear this tracking bracelet. You have been given ninety minutes in this District. If you have not returned to this location within the time limit to shoot the promo, we will have a search team sent out to find you. You may go."

The bracelet fits tightly over my wrist and locks in place so that it is impossible for me to remove it. It feels like a shackle binding me to District Thirteen. Do they think that this is necessary? I may not enjoy my life here, but I know much better than to try to run. Where would I go? I wouldn't leave Panem to deal with Snow alone. I want to execute him myself.

And if the Capitolites found me.. They can create arenas and remove trackers from underneath the skin, I'm fairly certain that they could remove this bracelet. And if they couldn't, likely they would just slice off my hand. I've seen before that they are no strangers to mutilation.

The thoughts of mutilation bring new and horrifying images to my mind. They might not kill Katniss, but what if they cut her tongue out.. Preventing her from speaking for the rebellion. Or what if they try brain surgery to leave her a different person- not technically killing her, but changing her beyond recognition.

Without realising, I had been walking towards the Seam and my old house. There's probably nothing left of mine there. Our family gave the house to a mother with three children who's husband had died in a mine collapse. I wonder if the family is one of the ones that Rory saved or if I will find their bodies mixed in with the fallen houses.

I hear something snap behind me and whirl around, my heart skipping a beat. It isn't an enemy though. Just an ugly, tabby cat. It had stepped on the skull of one of the citizens. As I turn back around, I realise that I recognise the cat. That was Katniss's cat, the one that she had threatened to cook a few times. Buttercup.

Buttercup was often on Prim's lap whilst I talked with her and Katniss. Now it's eating what flesh remains on the bones of the body. I sigh. I would have wanted to take him back for Prim, but District Thirteen doesn't allow animals and it isn't worth having more meetings and President Coin drawing up a new contract all for a cat. He'll have plenty to eat here anyway. There're enough dead.

My gaze roves over District Twelve to find any signs of life except for this one cat. But all that I can see in any direction is an ocean of dust and rubble, only ending at the fence. There's nothing to see here. I had thought that there might be something left.. Anything left.. But there isn't. There's nothing except for that one mangy tomcat.

Sighing, I turn back. And as I turn, I see a glimpse of the old District Twelve. I stop and look back at it. Just one part was not destroyed. I run towards it, my feet crunching over bones and sending clouds of ash into the air. Was this meant for me to come back to?

The gates creak open. The cast iron letters which spell Victor's Village seem mocking now. Taunting Katniss and I and Haymitch. You thought that you could be a victor, they seem to whisper. You thought that you could win more than one minor victory. The only part of District Twelve which remains is the part which the Capitol built.

It is perfectly intact, not even touched by the bombs which devastated the rest of the District. There is not one chip in the paint of the houses, not even one crack in any window. It seems surreal, a centre of perfection in the middle of the arid wasteland of my old District.

Instinctively, I head towards my old house. All of my belongings will be there, not that we had much. After winning the Games, I had a lot of money but not much desire for material goods. I just wanted to keep my family safe and well-fed and to settle down with Katniss here one day. That dream has been blown away now, almost every part. Maybe I'll never see Katniss as she was again.

The door is unlocked and opens when I push gently on the wood. It seems as if it was left here specifically for me. It probably was, left here by Snow or some other high-ranking Capitolite to mock me. Or perhaps it's nothing to do with me and they just need a nice place to stay for Capitolites who would do reports on the destroyed District.

I feel like a ghost walking through the house. It's so familiar and yet so different. Before, I would have heard Rory and Posy running around the house; I would have smelt some rabbit cooking in the kitchen; my mother would be calling me in to ask how my day was and telling me to sit and eat because I looked too thin after the Games. Not anymore. At least my family is still alive, unlike so many others. Just my father, but I've had enough time for that loss to become just a small ache when I think about it.

I wander into the kitchen. As I look around, one thing immediately seems out of place. I step closer to the table. There is a vase with a white rose which casts a strong smell over the room. I used to like roses before Snow. They sometimes grew wild near our house and I would pick some for Posy to smell. But now there is only one thing that I can associate roses with, especially these genetically engineered ones.

This house is Snow's now. My family are elsewhere and this house was only given to me because I killed enough people. I don't want it. District Thirteen may be cramped and give no freedom, but at least we're fighting for a good cause. That's worth more than all of the comfort in the world to me. We will win this war.

Looming over me is the thought that if we lose, the punishment will be not only for us, but they will make all of our descendants lives a living hell as well. At best they'll only bring back the Hunger Games and the District system. At worst they'll create a new punishment, maybe with more or younger people than the Hunger Games. They might destroy yet another District. If we win the war, I want District Twelve to be rebuilt better than before.

There's nothing left for me here now though. Maybe in the future District Twelve will be rebuilt better than before, but at the moment all it is is miles of dust and corpses and rubble and a handful of building built by the Capitol as rewards for killing. Now taunts for trying to escape the system.

I head back to the main square with the hovercraft. District Thirteen soldiers are gathered around, talking about what they've seen. It occurs to me that for many of them, this might have been their first trip above ground. It seems like a pity that the first time they see the sun, it will be shining above a bomb site.

"We can go now," I say, approaching one of the soldiers. "I've seen what I needed to see. It's all gone. All except for Victor's Village, but that's just been left for Capitolites now. It had one of Snow's trademark roses."

"Yes, Soldier Hawthorne." He turns away from me. "We're going to shoot now! Get back into the hovercraft everyone!" he shouts. He walks away towards the hovercraft and I follow him. "It's sad to see this, I know," says the soldier. "It's your home. But that sadness will be good for inspiring anger."

"It was my home. It's not anymore. My home is District Thirteen now, or wherever I can do as much good for the rebellion as possible. The Capitol destroyed my home and took my love. Now I'm going to destroy them." I notice a camera team coming out from the hovercraft.

The man grins. "That's the spirit Hawthorne. But save it for the cameras."

One of the team comes up to me and hands me a script. "Read through that quickly and memorise it," she orders. "We want this to look natural, even though we will be shooting several times. You only have a few lines. These videos will be short, we need to keep the people's attention."

The script seems decent. Not brilliant, not something that I would naturally say, but I can see that they've put a lot of effort into this. I quickly memorise the lines. "Ready?" one of the team asks. I nod. "Shooting in three, two, one.." There is a click as the cameras turn on and focus on my face.

"People of Panem, what do you see here?" I ask.

In the pause, the cameras turn around, capturing the ruins of District Twelve.

"Do you see people that you would want to be ruled by? People who would try to destroy a District when their demands aren't given into? Is this right?" Another pause, more footage of the ruins of Twelve. The cameras focus back on my face again. "No! We all know that this isn't right and we will make it change. People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!" I shout.

"Cut. We will be shooting again. Hawthorne, try to make this seem more natural this time. Your voice is good, but don't stop when the cameras aren't on you. That reeks of being rehearsed. We'll put your voice over the footage. Again!"

xXx-X-xXx

Thanks for reading and thank you to the people who have followed and favourited. If you have any comments or constructive criticism, please leave a review. Next chapter will be Katniss again.

-MoonOfPluto


	4. Mistrust

4: Mistrust

Katniss POV

It feels wrong to be anxiously awaiting Snow's return.. Or any Capitolite to be honest. But I can't help it. I don't like being alone, cut off from all information or conversation. Haymitch once told me that it's a type of torture, solitary confinement. It's certainly effective for me to start desiring the company of President Snow. He hasn't come back for a few days. He will soon, I'm sure. I'm the mockingjay. He needs me to like him. I won't though.

I jab my fingers into my arm and pain lances through it, sending pulses in wires along my muscles. The pain is a distraction from my mind, it helps me to remember that I'm real, that the rebellion needs me. Even if Finnick betrayed me, it doesn't mean that the others are bad. Finnick was just doing what he had to for survival. I would have done the same, I convince myself. I was willing to let him die for me. I shouldn't feel betrayed that he wouldn't.

The silence is pressing and my thoughts sound so loud. Part of me wants to talk them out loud, gather them all together that way- but another part of me knows that that is probably one of the dumbest things that I could do right now. I can't give Snow insight into my mind. He has this room under surveillance, I'm sure of it. Maybe there are people hired to watch me now.. Maybe they're writing up how I use the pain.

The last person that I saw was the doctor he sent in to examine my arm and give me painkillers. That was a few days ago. I think. It's hard to tell time when all I have to judge by is my sleep cycle and four white walls. He was polite, but he barely said anything. That my arm is healing well. That it should be better in a few weeks, maybe a month. He fed me the painkillers and some water. The painkillers only lasted a few hours.

Food and water are pushed in at regular intervals. I haven't felt hungry, so I'm guessing they do it every few hours. The first time I wondered whether it was possible to crawl through the food slot. It's not. I could barely get one arm through when I tried. And even if I could, I doubt that I could escape the Capitol. He probably has guards outside this room, and with my face plastered all over television for the past few weeks there's no chance of blending in. Maybe if the guards betrayed Snow.. But if they were going to they already would have.

Escape alone is impossible, I decide. If Snow ever comes back, maybe I could attempt to kill him. He's old and came alone, even with my arm I could probably take him. But again, guards just outside the room. They would rush in and he would never be alone again. Maybe I could gain their trust somehow. Snow wants me on his side. What if I agree? No, it will look obvious. Nobody would change their mind just because of one conversation with a person they know has no qualms about lying.

I need a plan. Just because I'm captive here doesn't mean that I can't help the rebels. At the very least I must stay sane for them. Fragments of the conversation with Haymitch about Capitol torture drive through my mind. Solitary confinement.. Long for any company.. Some go mad.. Most go mad.. Just hope they never get you.. Start to hallucinate.. Hear voices.. Sometimes worse than physical torture..

No. It won't be worse than physical torture. I won't go mad. I won't long for the company of enemies. Unless it's trying to find their weaknesses. Keep Gale in mind. He's out there somewhere. He'll be waiting for me. Gale wanted to give up his life for me. Gale will never betray me. I can't betray him either. No matter what Snow does to me, I won't betray Gale. Think of those who are counting on you.

The list of names that I know is depressingly short. I should know more about the people that I'm fighting for. Prim. Gale. My mother. Hazelle Hawthorne. Posy and Rory. Peeta, maybe. Seneca? If he's still alive, I doubt he likes the Capitol. Everyone left in Twelve. Aravis's sister. Tessa, wasn't her name? At least I know that they're still alive, mostly. Snow would have probably told me if they had died to try to crush my spirit. If the rebellion was over, he would just kill me.

OK. Repeat what you know. Keep your memories, I tell myself. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I have a sister named Prim. I love her. I volunteered for her in the Hunger Games. Gale came with me. We won together, we rebelled. Snow put me through another Hunger Games. Now there are people out there fighting for their freedom, fighting against Snow. Snow is the enemy. Gale is alive. Snow is the enemy... Gale is alive..

The click of the invisible door opening snaps me out of my mind and I turn quickly around. Snow again. This is good. Maybe I can make a bit of progress in getting him to trust me. I notice that he is carrying a tray of food and saliva fills my mouth. The food looks much better than the food I've had before, which has been filling but tasteless. I would give anything for some nice rabbit now, or turkey, or squirrel. But the small loaf of bread and the steak will have to do.

"Hello President Snow. How long have I been here for now? It's sort of hard to tell.." I gesture at the white walls. "Or am I not allowed to know that?" I droop my head. I need him to believe that the confinement is having the effect that he wants.

"It has been four days since I last visited," Snow replies. "Of course you are allowed to know. As I told you before, I'm not trying to torture you. Trust me Katniss, if that was what I wanted, you would be begging for death now. It may surprise you to know that I am not particularly sadistic."

Lie. He's trying to psychologically torture me. Lie. I know that he's sadistic. He enjoys the Hunger Games. Truth, he could probably torture me enough that I would be begging for death. At least he doesn't hide that.

"It surprises me very much. If you aren't trying to torture me, can I speak to the others? Haymitch and Finnick and Beetee?"

"No. Not yet at least. You are not here to be tortured, but they are. I need information about who is rebelling and it's them who have it. Besides, they betrayed you. How is your arm healing? Dr Rivera tells me that it should be better in a few weeks, fully. More painkillers can be arranged if you desire."

"No thank you. It feels fine. Is that food for me?"

"Yes." He sets down the tray at the edge of the bed. "Dr Rivera told me that you were malnourished. After the Games, I suppose that was to be expected. Eat. I don't want you to die from starvation."

"No, neither do I. Starvation is very painful. I've come close before and I have no intention of doing so again." A little bit of info about my life should help convince him that I trust him more, even if it's something that was implied and that he probably already knew. "Thank you for the food."

"You're welcome. Have you thought about what I was saying a few days ago?" he asks. "Our discussion was cut short, but we can finish it now. I have more time."

"I thought. I still hate what you've done and what you haven't done. I still want to Capitolites to lose this war." Maybe that was a bit far. "But I sort of see why you did it. It's not my right to force people to give, but you shouldn't have let the Hunger Games continue. You shouldn't have stopped people moving freely through the Districts or the Districts trading with each other."

"I see. I understand that this is a difficult topic for you. You nearly starved to death a few years ago. You were having a comfortable life until your sister was reaped for the Hunger Games. You were recently reaped again. But as I told you, the Hunger Games are fairly insignificant for most people. It's a worry every year, but the chances of being picked are miniscule."

"Easy for you to say. You have no chance of being picked, you or your family if you have any.. You didn't have your name inside the reaping ball forty times because of tesserae.. You enjoy watching people fight to the death on live television. You wanted me to die in that arena."

"I have family. I used to have a daughter and I have custody of a granddaughter. Even if I was from a District, the chances are low. And do not exaggerate, Katniss. Your name was in the reaping ball twenty times. There is a record kept of the names in the reaping ball and it came up in my research of you after you won the Games. Among other facts."

The message is clear. Do not lie to me, I will know. He knows about my past, but he doesn't know what I will do next. I can act now, better than before at least. The Games and the interviews have given me that skill, if nothing else. But he can lie as well. Maybe he was lying about having family. I don't picture Snow as a family man.

"Do you have footage of the Games?" I ask, changing the subject. "I need proof to believe that they betrayed me. Just the last few minutes.. Or did the cameras go out?"

"I thought that you would ask that sooner or later." He goes to the door for a second and collects a small computer. "Here."

He presses the play button and I watch intently. Beetee comes rushing into the cornucopia area and grabs my bow. It seems almost like a signal. Were they just waiting for me to be unarmed so that they could kill me? Finnick wrestles me to the ground and Haymitch helps.

Then Finnick plunges his trident into my arm and my screams fill the room. I feel back in the moment; my arm starts to burn and I whimper. Then Beetee shoots the arrow, which seems to have something tied around it. The screen flashes pure white for a moment and then goes blank. Snow takes it away.

"This doesn't prove anything," I insist. "You could have edited that. It might not have been my allies betraying me.." But the words sound futile even before they are out of my mouth. They were all part of the rebellion and this wound in my arm had to come from somewhere. If not Finnick, then who? It does have three deep stabs and then a sort of shallower tearing,

"If you examine your wound, you will find it clearly inflicted by a trident," Snow responds, saying exactly my thoughts. "Johanna Mason escaped from the arena and she was allies with Beetee, who we have captured. They were part of the rebellion, as were Finnick and Haymitch. One of them must have given you the wound."

"Johanna escaped?" I interrupt.

"Yes, Johanna Mason escaped," Snow says with a grimace. "But I think that the video footage answers your question about your allies betraying you and why you should not feel this loyalty towards them."

"Just because they betrayed me doesn't mean that the rest of the rebels want me dead. Why would they?"

"Oh, I don't believe that the average rebel wants you dead. They all look up to you, love you. No, the people who want you dead are the rebel leaders and their allies- the victors. Their soldiers will do what is asked of them, they will not refuse their orders. You have no true friends among the rebels, Katniss."

"And I suppose that I can trust you more?" I ask sarcastically. "After you arranged for me to go into the Hunger Games for a second time so that I would be killed and you could continue your dictatorship."

"Trust," Snow muses. "Trust is an unusual thing. You can trust me in the sense that I do not want you dead and that I do want what is best for the country. I will not try to send assassins to kill you, or arrange for my soldiers and allies to betray you once you trust us. But my ideals are different to yours, certainly, so you don't have to like me. Purely on trust, yes, I am more trustworthy."

I somehow doubt that. If he was trustworthy, he wouldn't have neatly avoided my question like that. That said, he said more trustworthy, not that I should trust him. And if he is right and the rebel leaders betrayed me- which rebel leaders and why. I can't expect an honest answer, but it will be expected that I ask.

"You didn't answer my original question," I respond. "Which rebel leaders were these? I thought that I was one of the rebel leaders. And why would they want me dead when I am on their side?"

"You aren't a rebel leader," Snow says dryly. "You are just a figurehead, a symbol for the rebellion. Tell me, if you were a rebel leader, wouldn't you know where their bases are? Wouldn't you know who is in the rebellion or about the rebel leaders? Perhaps about their battle plans, hmm?"

I shake my head.

"No, of course not. You are just a child, one who has been through difficult experiences, but still only a child. You have no training, no experience of warfare. You know nothing about the rebellion. And that's because and why they don't trust you, nor do they need you after a certain point. Your purpose was to entice people to join the rebellion, do you understand?"

"Assuming you are right, yes. But that doesn't answer the question. If you can't defend your lies, don't expect a follower."

"Now tell me, Katniss. Which story do you think would convince more people to rebel? The story of you being rescued from the Quarter Quell and going with Gale, making some dramatic speeches about how noble people are being.."

They don't have Gale. That's good. Now it's just Prim and Mum that I have to worry about.

"Or the story of Gale leaving and his love being trapped with the evil Capitolites, being tortured and abused. The desperation to rescue his loved one and the hate which can be brought up with just a few lies. They love you, so they will hate those who harm you. Maybe the intention was to have you killed, that certainly would stir up anger. Gale's heartfelt speeches would only fuel the fire."

"The second one," I admit. "But where is Gale and who are these rebellion leaders? Even if they want to kill me, they have the greater good of Panem in mind. That makes them better than you."

Snow laughs, air rasping through his scarred mouth. "They want power, Katniss. When I am gone, they will be the ones in charge and you are deceiving yourself if you believe that they want this power for the good of the country. That is just a lie to gain support. And do you know how I know that?"

"How?"

"Because I know their history. The rebels are at District Thirteen. You should recall that it was destroyed after the first rebellion. It was not. The soldiers of Thirteen betrayed the rest, although they had nuclear weapons which would have greatly helped. They betrayed so that they would not be harmed by war, so they could retain the most power."

"That was seventy five years ago. It's different now."

"I've met their President. We've spoken, negotiated. President Coin is every bit as power-hungry as I, but she does not give freedom nor opportunity for wealth. Her District is run like a police state. People are forced into the army, every moment of their lives are scheduled and filmed, people are given the bare minimum of resources to survive. I can prove this. Do you really want these people ruling over you?"

"No."

xXx-X-xXx

OK, kind of a late chapter. Thanks to all of the people who've followed and favourited, I appreciate it.

-MoonOfPluto


	5. Hospital

5: Hospital

Prim POV

Since the video in District Twelve a few days ago, people have been pouring into the District. Most of them are malnourished and injured from protesting in the Districts and being beaten and whipped by peacekeepers. They generally seem to come from Districts Six, Seven and Eight. It's fortunate that Twelve isn't the only District which borders Thirteen. The rest of the children who escaped Twelve with Rory and I were put into education, including Rory. He showed me the map of they were taught once, and District Thirteen is near the centre. The Capitol is on the west side, the career Districts are east.

I rub my hands with the alcohol sanitizer and ready a syringe of morphling for the next patient to come in. District Thirteen has few doctors due to the fact that people get equal pay and more freedom for less work by being in the army. That was in peacetime though. Where before they trained and were assigned low-skill jobs, doctors needed to go through much more education and spent time treating patients everyday, even in peace. That's why District Thirteen snapped up the opportunity to have my mother and I working here, I think.

My mother and I work alongside the rest of the District Thirteen doctors. It's wonderful that they don't take age into account here, just what you can do when a patient is injured or dying. Most of the injuries suffered in Twelve are the same sort that people are coming here with- whips, burns, infected wounds, some stabs. My mother and I have probably had more experience treating these than the Thirteen doctors, seeing as people here around allowed weapons unless it is for training and the care is good enough that any wounds are treated before becoming infected.

The next person to come is a man with a nasty looking tapestry of lashes and bruises across his back. He's incredibly lucky that none of them are infected yet, I think to myself. His friends must have carried him here and been careful. That's good. He's currently whimpering in pain on the table and I inject the morphling. It takes a few minutes, but he visibly relaxes and the look of pain is replaced with a happy, dazed look.

I quickly wash out and disinfect the wounds before sewing them up where needed. Then they are covered with bandages and he is sent out of the room for the next one to come in. I think about Katniss and her speeches before. She started this rebellion, and now people are being injured and killed everyday to keep it going. It doesn't seem right. And is District Thirteen really going to give us the government we hope for? Everything scheduled, everything limited. I don't want to live like this for the rest of my life. Nobody does, not the rebels, not even the people born and bred here- though they know no difference.

I've talked to some of the doctors before about my life. They found it odd that it wasn't compulsory for me to go to school because I worked with my mother; they found it crazy that you could get whatever food you payed for. They found the freedom of Twelve frightening, but at the same time enticing. They wanted to be off schedule, to get the best food which was reserved for high government officials if their work demanded high pay.

The next man who enters the room isn't a patient. He's a soldier.

"Dr Everdeen," he says, saluting. "Change of plans. You will be coming to District Eight today to make propos with Gale Hawthorne and Johanna Mason, at her request. Come now."

Propos. I saw the one that Gale made in Twelve, trying to inspire people to rebel with images of the fighting Districts. Going to District Eight. That's where so many of my patients came from. For a moment, I want to tell the man no. I don't want to risk my life making videos there. I'm of much more use here, treating the injured. But then I remember the moment in the woods outside Twelve, when all of the remaining citizens were cheering me, following me.

I remember Katniss. She never wanted the fame either, but she got it and she coped well. She stirred people up into a revolution and it cost her her freedom. I can go to District Eight to help the rebellion. There will be other victors, Thirteen soldiers.. I will be fine. They'll make sure that we get out alive.

"OK." I follow him through the grey-walled corridor and up a few flights of stairs. The hospital is near the surface for easy access. It's tantalisingly close to the outside world, but we aren't allowed out. It feels good to let the sun shine over my skin for the first time in weeks. District Thirteen has a lighting system that's meant to mimic sunlight, but it doesn't feel the same.

He helps me climb up the steps into the hovercraft and I remember when the hovercraft blocked out all of the light above me in the forest. Hope mixed with fear.. Rebellion or Capitol. It turned out to be rebellion, and I was the first one who was placed into the hovercraft. Me and Rory were the most important.

But then they told us that we had it wrong. Katniss was the one captured by the Capitol, Gale was the one who escaped. I tried to feel happy for Rory and Posy, I really did, but I couldn't help but resent it. Katniss should have been the one who got out. They should have both got out. Katniss shouldn't be in the Capitol now, getting tortured for info she knows nothing about.

"Primrose.." An unfamiliar voice shakes me from my thoughts. "Primrose! Pay attention."

I turn around to see Johanna Mason. This is the first time that I've seen her in person, though I spent a lot of time watching her in the Games. She looks tamer now, more sane. Her wild brown hair is tied back in a tight ponytail, she isn't carrying an axe, she isn't dressed up as a tree.

"Johanna. You asked for me to come. Why?"

Johanna laughs, the same half-crazy laugh that she laughed in the Games. I am surprised that Johanna had passed the psychological evaluation needed to serve as a soldier in Thirteen, she still seems disturbed from the Games. Suddenly, I'm glad that Johanna no longer has an axe.

"You're the mockingjay's sister; it was your name that caused this whole uprising," she laughs. "Everybody loves and worships you. After they captured your sister, their hearts went out to you as well. I can't believe that the idiots in charge here didn't think it a good idea to have you making propos."

"What's happening in District Eight?"

"We're visiting a hospital. Capitol bombed them, there are loads of horrific injuries there. Perfect to make people angry," she says grinning. "So we go, make some inspirational speeches, take videos of people dying, maybe try to help a few.."

Her blasé attitude to this annoys me suddenly. Seeing horrific injuries as an opportunity. She's a psychopath. "Maybe try to help a few?" I ask her. "We should definitely be trying to help everyone. We have hovercrafts, we can bring them back to District Thirteen. The hospitals here are great, we can heal them and you just want to leave them to die, without even trying?"

"They're useless," she says, her hand fidgeting near her waist. Where she kept the axe during the Games. "I don't know if you realise, but these people have had legs blown off, or arms, or maybe they have burns all over their bodies or were hit by shrapnel or something like that. So yeah, we could save them.."

"We should save them," I interrupt. "We should try to save everybody if it's possible."

"But they won't be of any use to the rebellion. They'll fill beds, or rooms once they're gone. They'll be more mouths to feed. They won't be able to fight for us. All they can do to help us now is appear on camera and die in pain."

"That's barbaric," I protest. "Even the Capitol don't do that to their citizens."

"Primrose, this is war. We're not going to waste resources on people who would get better only to be cripples. Be logical here. And have you ever been to the Capitol? How do you even know what they do?"

"Katniss told me," I lie. "She was in hospital there with Gale for a few days after her Games. She saw them treating old people and young people and people with horrible injuries all the same." I shouldn't lie to her, but I know that she hates the Capitol. If she thinks that they do that, maybe she'll try to outdo them. It's worth lying to save lives, or at least give people a peaceful death.

"Quite the Capitolite, aren't you Primrose?" she taunts. "You realise what they've been saying about Katniss around here, don't you?"

"That she's a hero. That she's the mockingjay. That it's disgraceful that we've done nothing to get her out of the Capitol. They're right."

"Maybe the people coming from other Districts who've only heard her in interviews," Johanna laughs. "But the people I've talked to? They think that it was done on purpose. That Katniss made a deal with the Capitol and that's why we haven't seen her yet. Snow's a sadistic bastard, he'd show off the mockingjay to the whole of Panem. But no, no sign of her. Except for what our spies say about Snow going to visit her quite often."

"Katniss would never do that," I protest. "Katniss hates Snow. She had to go into the Games because of him, why would she make a deal with him?"

"For you. She volunteered to be killed horribly for you and you think she wouldn't betray us for you. It doesn't strike you as odd that Victors Village, your home, wasn't bombed? Or that they didn't send somebody in before to take you and your mother as blackmail on Katniss? How can you not see it? Everdeen's a traitor."

"Katniss isn't a traitor," I insist. Deep breaths, Prim, deep breaths. Count to ten. Don't lose your temper. Don't try to hit her. You won't convince her that we should save people, or that Katniss isn't a traitor. Just let her be wrong. She's probably just following orders. Don't rise to her bait. Deep breaths.

"Just don't mess this one up, Primrose. I know you want to save everyone, but it isn't practical. Don't go Capitolite like your sister. I'd hate to have to kill you."

"There is no chance that I will "go Capitolite"," I tell her, as calmly as I can. "I will do what I can for the rebellion. And Katniss hasn't joined Snow. She wouldn't do that, not even for me."

I feel the hovercraft touch down heavily and the seat rattles. Slowly, I sneak out the medical pack from under the chair. They always keep med-packs under the chairs when there isn't an infirmary on board. I'm glad they don't on this one. No matter what Johanna or anyone else says, I'm going to help the people here.

I slip the straps of the rucksack over my back. I'm still in the doctor's uniform and a lot of the people recognise me, hopefully it shouldn't look too out of place. Besides, most of the soldiers are probably sane. They won't mind me trying to help or at least ease the pain of the wounded here.

I climb down the ladder after Johanna and land with a thud on the floor. Concrete. I'm guessing we are in one of the richer parts. The group of soldiers and Johanna are walking towards a large building and I hurry after them, trying to avoid potholes and pieces of broken glass.

They push open the doors and we enter. At first glance, it seems to be some sort of warehouse. I can see shelves and boxes, some with pieces of cloth inside. District Eight, Textiles, my mind supplies. But as we move into a lighter part, I see what it really is. Johanna said we were going to a hospital. This isn't a hospital. It seems like a place where people have come to die.

It's crowded in here. There aren't any proper beds, so people are sprawled out along the floor in what seem to be rows. The ground seems sticky and I reach down and touch it. My hand comes away red. Blood. I wipe it on my shirt and take some hand sanitizer from my pocket. It's refreshing to get that off. I can't treat people with dirty hands. I approach a woman lying a few feet from me.

Her arm is wounded deeply, almost to the bone, in more than one place. There are small pieces of metal still there and bandages hanging off the edges. I wonder how long she's been here for. Not long, surely, or she would have bled to death by now. I bend down next to her.

"You're going to be OK," I tell her. "We can fix this, I know we can. Now I just need you to stretch out your arm for me so I can get a proper look."

She turns towards me, opening her eyes. Green, bloodshot. "Who are you? Why are you here? Get out, they'll be coming soon.." She whimpers as she stretches out her arm.

"I'm Primrose Everdeen. Don't worry about me. The Capitol can't do anything to me, I'm protected by the rebels. It's your arm we need to worry about." I root through the bag, looking for the bottle of morphling. I find it quickly and draw out a needle. She has quite large veins, good, that makes things easier. The tip of the needle pierces her skin and I slowly press down on the plunger. She moans as the morphling works its way in.

"I'm going to clean and stitch your wounds now," I tell her. "This might feel odd, but it shouldn't hurt if the morphling works properly."

The woman nods and I take out the medical stapler and some wound dressings. I try to get the obvious pieces of metal out first, then wash out and disinfect the wound. I glance at the woman's face. The morphling seems to be working fine. Her pupils are dilated and her facial muscles are relaxed. I didn't give enough to completely knock her out, but she shouldn't be feeling much pain. After stapling the wound up and bandaging it, I move onto the next part of the arm.

When I'm finished, I turn around to see a District Thirteen cameraman focus in on my face. Then there is a click as he stops filming. "Good work, Miss Everdeen. We'll have this on every screen in Panem by tonight. Good idea to pick that wound, disgusting enough that people will hate the Capitol, not so disgusting that they'll stop watching. That's probably all we'll need from you."

Another person who thinks that the only use of these people is to look bad on screen. It's not just Johanna being uncaring. "We can take her back," I tell him. "Her wounds can be recovered from, especially in one of our hospitals. She could work for you, maybe in the kitchens or cleaning."

"She might be good for breeding," the man grunts. "And she isn't so bad that she can't work, I suppose. Maybe appear with you in another propo later. But we aren't bringing all of these people back. They're too wounded." As I look around the makeshift hospital, I see that he's right. Many of these people are missing legs and complete limbs, they'll bleed to death soon.

"Help me bring her back to the hovercraft," I order. "I can't carry her alone. Be careful with her arm."

He follows me outside and I breathe in the polluted, but not stinking of decay and rot air. As we head to the hovercraft, I hear a huge crack which sends me reeling. My eardrums seem to burst and I look around quickly. What used to be a huge warehouse has been reduced to rubble to my left.

"Run!" shouts the man, scarpering toward the hovercraft himself. I hurry after him, the taste of smoke on my breath. He pushes the woman up first and then clings to the door to pull himself in after her. I stare back for a moment. It seems much longer. Johanna and Gale and the others are still in the makeshift hospital.

Then I see them streaming out. The rebels have guns out and I hear a clatter of fire. Then I am forced firmly inside the hovercraft by the back of my collar. The air is knocked out of my lungs and the man drops me on the floor. I roll over and get up. The noise seems slightly more muted in here, but I can still hear it loudly.

"Go to the back. The only one meant to be here who is not on board is Johanna Mason. We're leaving. If she gets out, she can go with the other hovercraft."

"What about Gale?"

"These are built for speed, not power," he explains. "If they get to their craft, they'll be fine. Probably. But if we try to protect them, we all die. We leave now."

I nod and head back to the seat. I strap all of the belts firmly over my body. We'll be using full speed. I don't know how fast that is, but I don't want to fall from my seat. The door closes, cutting off the outside noise. Just now do I realise how fast my pulse is and how fast I was breathing. I'm a rebel now, I remind myself. This is a hazard, but it's worth it. I am a rebel. I'm fighting for Katniss, like she fought for me.

I can feel the thrust pushing me back into my seat as we take off. For a moment, my fear deserts me. If we're going this fast, they won't catch up with us. They can't. Their hovercrafts are so bulky. But what about Gale? If he's captured too, Katniss will lose hope. I try to slow down my breathing. In and out. Gale will be fine. Katniss will be rescued.

Then I feel the entire craft shake, and my head bangs against the back of the seat hard. Tears threaten to spill over my eyes, but I hold them back. Suddenly, my stomach rises into my throat as I feel the hovercraft fall rapidly. We were hit, weren't we? There's supposed to be a parachute under the seats. I fumble around and undo one of the seat-belts.

As it comes open, I fall forward as my hands clasp around the bag. I go head over heels, clutching the parachute bag. My body slams against someone's legs. For the second time, I am pulled up by the collar. I stare into the brown eyes of a soldier. He has a gun at his waist and a parachute in one hand.

"Do you know how to use that?" he barks, looking at my bag.

"No," I admit, feeling stupid, like a little girl.

"Shit. Right, Everdeen, here's what's happening. We're both going to be captured. You are going to be a spy." He stretches out my arm and pulls down the sleeve. "Captain Ashford, the tracker!" he shouts. I notice that the descent seems to have slowed. Gliding, maybe? Apparently I won't die today.

Another man comes over and thrusts the thick point of a needle into my arm and shoves the plunger down. "Oww!" I cry as I feel an object being forced under my skin.

"They hear through that," Ashford explains. "Act like you don't know it's there."

There is a crash as the craft touches down roughly. The doors open and I am practically shoved down the ladder and fall at the bottom. I push myself onto my feet and look around. The hospital is gone. The large, Capitol hovercrafts have landed and soldiers in white swarm the area. I see no sign of another rebellion hovercraft. Gale and Johanna must be gone.

The peacekeepers surround us. One of them shoves my hands behind my back and I feel them click into cuffs. His hand grasps my upper arm and drags me towards one of the Capitol hovercrafts.

"Young for a rebel," he comments. "You can't be more than fourteen."

He looks closer at my face and I can see the recognition flood across his. "Primrose Everdeen," he mutters. "Someone'll be getting promoted for this."

I am pulled over to another Capitolite. I want to be brave like Katniss, but courage seems to have left me and my legs shake underneath me. They could torture me. They could use me to get to Katniss. I want to run, but my legs seem to have frozen. I should have stayed in the safety of Thirteen, treating the wounded.

"Take her to a private cell," the man commands. "Snow will want to see this one personally."


	6. Traitor

6: Traitor

Katniss POV

Snow showed me the videos of District Thirteen, like he said he would, and much as I hate to admit it, he's right. I don't want them ruling. District Twelve was no utopia, it wasn't a rich, colourful place like the Capitol, but even District Twelve seems better than Thirteen. Grey clothes, grey rooms, violet tattoos with the daily schedule on the forearm. Timetabled down to the minute, mostly work or military training, short breaks in between.

At least in District Twelve, we were free to a certain extent. I mean, we couldn't leave the District, but at least we could go above ground. The mine shifts were shorter, and you could work where you wanted. I remember the poor girls outside the richer people's houses, begging for money. The ones who took their desperation one step further and started selling their bodies. They could have had a job in the mines, there was no shortage of places with people dying in collapses so often. But they decided that it wasn't worth the risk. People in Thirteen don't have that choice. Apparently. According to what Snow wanted to show me. That could have all been staged.

If only everybody could live the Capitol standard of life, I think for a moment. It seems like the best place in the whole of Panem to live. No, what am I thinking? I was supposed to pretend to take Snow's side, this is what he's been telling me. I can't actually take his side. That's what he wants. I will not do what Snow wants. Never. I don't want Twelve, or Thirteen, or the Capitol- throwing up food so they can stuff more down their pampered, greedy throats. They're all terrible systems. We need something new.

Snow seems confident about his ability to turn me to his side. It makes me wonder if he's trying some subtle plot that I haven't noticed, or whether he has some sort of ace to make me do what he wants. Brainwashing drugs, say. But if he did, he would have used them by now, wouldn't he? Maybe he's trying some sort of slower brainwashing technique on me, rather than trying to get me to take his side based on emotional or logical arguments.

OK, what do I know about Capitol methods of torture and brainwashing? I wrack my brains for anything that Haymitch might have told me. I remember what he said about solitary confinement. But Snow wouldn't want me to be insane. Or maybe that's why he's been coming. To make sure that I get enough human conversation to not go insane, but not with the sorts of people who might turn me back towards the rebellion.

I hear the almost familiar click of the door as it opens. Snow is back. But is that somebody else with him? I try to peer around his figure. Snow is surprisingly thin for a Capitolite, for somebody who is probably the richest man in Panem. Maybe it's to do with the ulcers around his mouth. I finally manage to see around his figure and take a deep intake of breath in surprise. I recognise that hair, those blonde plaits.

"Prim?" I ask, almost unbelieving that Snow would let me speak to her. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah," Prim says, slowly. "It's really me. I was captured in District Eight, we were making videos for the rebellion, but then the Capitol hovercrafts came."

"You shouldn't have risked yourself like that," I chide her. "Helping people to rebel is my job, my duty and Gale's, not yours. You should have stayed out of this. Stayed with our mother in District Thirteen.. Wait, is our mother still alive? Is she here too?"

"She's fine," Prim says and my shoulder sag in relief. She might not have been the best mother for a time, but she was still an excellent woman and she still cared a lot about our family. I wish I could talk to her as well. "She's in District Thirteen, treating the wounded. But how do you know about Thirteen?"

"He told me." I gesture to Snow. "He told me about the plans to have me captured and what District Thirteen is really like. Why they're helping the rebels." I hope Prim has enough sense to play along here. Snow might have said that he isn't sadistic, but I don't believe it for a second. If Prim tries to convince me that District Thirteen is some kind of utopia, god knows what he'll do to her. I can't let that happen.

"District Thirteen isn't that bad," Prim says. I want to glue her mouth shut, push her out of the room and tell her to escape. But it won't work, Snow is right here. Come on, Prim, I pray. Say something that will make it look horrible. "I mean, yeah, they don't give much freedom.." Thank God. "But they have enough resources for all of us, and there, nobody goes unfed."

"Nobody goes unfed, but nobody gets anything more than the minimum, right?" I prompt. "Or was Snow lying to me?" I add, to make it look realistic. "He told me that he'd been there, seen parts of Thirteen."

"Yeah, that's true. They ration food pretty strictly, I guess that's why they have enough to go around. You get the amount necessary for the amount of work you're scheduled to do. I'm surprised that he's been telling you the truth about this.." she says, glaring at Snow pointedly.

Please, Prim, don't antagonise him. You don't know what he can do to you. You weren't with me when Haymitch discussed Capitol torture. And those were just the psychological techniques that they know of. Suddenly, the room leaves me and I see the black and white birds around me, screaming in Prim's voice. I whimper and cram my hands over my ears.

"Katniss?" a comforting voice comes through. "Katniss! Are you OK? Has he done something to you?"

"It's a flashback," another voice says. This one sounds far less comforting. "Considering your line of work, I would think that you would recognise this. Likely from the jabberjays in the Third Quell."

I feel warm hands around my own and they slowly ease my hands down from my ears. I gradually open my eyes. The jabberjays are gone, so are the screams. It's just the white room, with Prim and President Snow. I shouldn't have broken down in front of Prim like that.

"I'm fine," I say. "He didn't do anything to me, just a flashback."

"Of something he caused."

"Of something he caused," I agree reluctantly. I can't really lie about that one, it would be much too obvious. And that would endanger my plans, and Prim's life if Snow realises. Maybe if he thinks that I'm on his side, that he's won me over, he'll let her go. Relatively, of course. She won't be able to return to Thirteen, but maybe be given more freedom around the Capitol. "Tell me more about District Thirteen and what's been happening to you."

Prim's face seems to light up. "After we were picked up from Twelve, I was set to work in one of the hospitals. It's wonderful, they have all of the facilities you can imagine and more. They have these machines that can show you the inside of a person's body to see their injuries, called x-rays. And they don't judge by age there. Everyone is put to work, and they've taught me and my mother more advanced methods of treating wounds.."

"That's amazing," I tell her. "Do people even die of injuries there? I mean, here in the Capitol, they healed Gale's arm wound pretty easily and that was quite deep after the seventy-fourth."

"People still die," Prim says, sobering up. "Most of the people who get to District Thirteen are fine, but they're the ones strong enough to make the journey in groups. In District Eight, there was a makeshift hospital, filled with people dying of horrible wounds, like missing limbs and crushed bones. We could have probably saved them, but District Thirteen didn't want them. Said that they'd be extra people to take care of in wartime, when the resources are spread thin already," she says resentfully.

"Oh. I thought that the rebellion was supposed to be standing up for people in the Districts. I know that the resources aren't infinite, but they should have at least tried." I frown. Maybe Snow was right about the President of Thirteen only wanting power and not actually to help. But those injuries sound really bad, the type that can't be properly recovered from. I would hate to live, but not be able to take care of myself.

"It is. We treat most of the people coming in from the Districts. We wouldn't have been able to save everyone there, a lot of the wounds were infected and were bleeding out. But they could have brought the better people back to Thirteen. I helped one woman and managed to persuade the guards to bring her back, but they didn't want to."

"I'm proud of you," I say suddenly. "Really proud. You've been strong through all of this, you've even been helping other people. That's more than I could have done if our positions were switched, and you're only thirteen."

I touch her plait and for a second, wish that she was still my little duck, the one who needed help to tuck in her shirt on Reaping Day. She's changed though, and so have I. She's now a proper nurse and has been saving the lives of people in a war, making inspirational speeches to the citizens.. And I've been through two Hunger Games, become the symbol of a revolution, captured by the enemy and possibly betrayed by my allies.

"Katniss, you've done far more than me," Prim says. "You saved my life when I was reaped. I wouldn't have won like you did. It's odd to think about now. Peeta and I are friends now, more than friends. But if you hadn't volunteered for me, we would have probably both been dead. Maybe at the hands of each other."

Peeta loved me, I remember. He would never have killed Prim. But that's irrelevant now. The Games are over, and if all goes well, there won't be another Hunger Games. She'll be safe, maybe back in District Twelve. Maybe I will be as well, if Snow doesn't kill me before then.

"Katniss?" Prim asks, cautiously. "You haven't betrayed the rebellion, have you? It's just that people are talking about why you haven't been shown on TV yet, and you seem to be OK, not tortured like I thought you would be. And some of the things you said.. You think that we planned to have you captured, and that District Thirteen is a horrible place with their own reasons for joining us."

"No," I reply. "Maybe. I haven't given any information, but I don't have any to give. I do have reliable sources that they betrayed me and arranged to have me captured, and the logic is sound. I know that District Thirteen isn't a good ally, that President Coin will be another dictator. But I'm still with us. I still think that what they do to the Districts is wrong, that we deserve better. I just don't trust District Thirteen, that's all. If you knew what I know, you'd see why."

That was a bad question for Prim to ask in front of Snow, but I think that my answer was satisfactory. Not completely with him, but not completely against either. I just hope that Prim wasn't too upset. It does bring up the real question though, have I betrayed the rebellion? I don't want District Thirteen in charge, and they seem to be the main people in the rebellion now.

Prim's face sags, and I feel a stab of guilt. This is for her own good though, for the good of Panem. I killed people in the Games, I shouldn't be feeling so much worse about making Prim disappointed. I do though. I want to tell her that I haven't betrayed her, but I can't. Not if I want her to live.

"What?" Prim asks, wiping tears from her eyes with her sleeve. "What do you know about District Thirteen that makes them so bad? I defended you to Johanna, I told her that you would never turn traitor. But District Thirteen is the rebellion. Without them, we would just be getting killed in the Districts. But now you seem much more with Snow than with us. They may not be perfect, but you have to see that they're better than him." Her voice turns desperate. "Please Katniss. District Thirteen has more reason to hate the Capitol than anyone. It's their fault that District Thirteen had to go underground."

"I know how they force everybody to work without any choice in what they do. And how they discard the disabled. How they used to dictate to people when they could give birth. How they ration food so strictly that you're not given a thing more than you need, with no opportunity to rise. And I know how they betrayed the Districts in the First War. They were our allies, they had nuclear weapons, and they decided to go underground to minimise risk to themselves. That doesn't prove that they're selfish?"

I quote back all of the info that Snow gave me, but as I say it, I realise that all of that is true, the proof that he has given is more than adequate. I wonder how Prim will respond. She's right, I am about equally on the sides of District Thirteen and the Capitol. I have my own side, that will fight for the Districts alone. I'm sure the proper rebels will agree. The ones who protested in the Districts, instead of hiding underground until there were enough supporters.

"That was seventy five years ago, it's not like that now."

I can't help the smile that comes to my face. That was what I said to President Snow when he told me the reasons that District Thirteen should not be trusted. I'm pretty sure I could come up with a good-sized list of reasons that Snow can be trusted less than Thirteen. Thirteen is helping the rebellion after all, and maybe they only live like that because they have to. Snow enjoys child murder, Snow tried to kill me, Snow poisoned his competitors..

"Perhaps they won't betray us now, but there are the other reasons I listed."

"We're fighting for power to the Districts, why would they join with us if President Coin wanted to be another Snow?"

"Your friends fight because they hate my regime," Snow speaks, surprising me. "The average person will have no more power working under Coin or any other president than they would under me. So once I am gone, their rebellion is over and they will fall into old patterns, with Coin as their leader. And she rids herself of an old enemy. A decent plan."

Prim looks from Snow to me, then back at Snow. I can see her lower lip trembling. This must be hard for her, to think that her sister who saved her life is agreeing with her worst enemy. Small drops of moisture fall from her eyes, and I instinctively reach forward to brush them away. Prim flinches back; maybe I went too far in my act.

"Katniss, if you're on his side for my protection, you don't have to be. I'm willing to die for this rebellion, like you were. Panem needs you more than I do, Katniss. Please.."

"I'm siding with him on this because I agree. He has given me evidence, Prim."

"And why do you think that he's more trustworthy?" Prim sobs.

"I don't. He still hasn't redeemed the Hunger Games to me, or the way Districts are treated. But he told me the truth about Thirteen and the rebel leaders."

"You're a traitor," Prim mutters. "Traitor," she says louder.

"Primrose Everdeen, you will be escorted back to your cell now," Snow says, his voice cutting through our conflict.

"Don't hurt her!" I call after him as he drags her away. "If you hurt my little sister, I swear, I will join with District Thirteen to destroy you. No matter what they've done."

"Of course not," Snow promises.

Prim turns around to face me for a second. I see her lips moving- she's mouthing something. I'm sorry, I catch. Thank you. I smile slightly and sigh with relief. She doesn't hate me, not completely anyway. And I can make sure he doesn't hurt her with that threat. Snow will never be allowed to hurt any of my family, no matter what I have to do to prevent it.


End file.
